


when the lights go out

by enchisms



Series: keep some secrets [1]
Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, F/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Slow Burn, ive been writing this during work so its a miracle if anything is spelled right, like legit way way waaaaaaaaaaay alternate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchisms/pseuds/enchisms
Summary: she's a lot older than she looks. he's not nearly as collected as he thinks. an alternate origin story for bo peep, and the romance with her sheriff.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> as a bo peep stan since the first movie, i loved ts4. ts3 had wrecked me when news got out that bo wasnt in it. i dont have complaints with the movie (not real ones at least) this is just a result of my brain going "hey what about" and not shutting up.

### 1988

"Okay, I think it's official."

"Is it? You sure?"

"Absolutely! We are! Moved! In!"

The two human adults clapped their hands, airy and tired laughter escaping them. Around their room there was a stack of emptied boxes and crumpled newspaper strewn all around. Along with all the furniture, on the top of a bookshelf there stood a porcelain doll lamp, surrounded by two mermaid figurines. On the king bed, tossed with ripped tape and scissors, laid a ragdoll cowboy. 

"Let's go out to celebrate."

"Mmm, some Thai food would hit the spot. Think the one on 15th is still open?"

"Lets go check. If not I call the next place, no buts about it."

Light switching off and door closing, as the humans continued their good natured teasing, the real story began.

* * *

It was at the five minute count that a voice from out the room called, "All clear!" With those two words the bedroom came to life, and so did the rest of the apartment filled with assorted knick knacks. Lamps got turned on for a muted glow outside, wine holding butlers stretched in the kitchen and collectibles in the den worked their way outside. In side the bedroom, things were a lot more slow-going.

"No bulb, huh?" The first mermaid, lovingly carved from wood, murmured to the porcelain doll. "Can you still make your way?"

"Oh, I'm sure I can make it down. At least she brought the same ol' bookcase." The voice was soft, but had an edge of exasperation It's owner tightened her bonnet and, shepherd's crook firmly in hand, began their steps to the edge. "I'll see if I can find a spare bulb out there too. Wish me luck, girls."

The ragdoll had been quiet during the whispered exchange, unsure how to enter the conversation. At first he'd thought to offer to bring a bulb, but tossed that out since he couldn't guarantee it. Maybe offer to bring her down? That was solved for him with how expertly the doll swung down the shelves, landing with a muffled thump on the carpet in a handful of blinks. Still stumped and still seated uselessly on the bed, he watched as she made her way across the room until she paused at the closed door. 

She gave a sharp turn in his direction, leaning on her crook. He couldn't see her expression, but he would bet money there was a smirk on it. Her voice certainly sounded of it as she called out, "Comin' Sheriff, or are you going to keep playing dead?"

Caught, he sputtered a quarter of an excuse before giving a wild limbed jump off the bed. Landing on his face and cowboy hat rolling off, he groused as he picked himself up, biting back a shout to the mermaids giggling at his expense.

"Now girls, lets be nice." Her voice never stopped being soft, but it was enough to quickly make them quiet. "It can't be easy getting caught staring." Now in front of her, he could clearly see the smirk that betrayed her voice. His mouth dropped open, excuse at the back of his tongue, but the cock of her eyebrow killed it instantly.

He choose to clear his throat, reaching for his head and - his hat. He jumped, turned left, turned right, and came out with zilch. His hat!

"My hat!"

"Oh, this one?"

Giving another jump, he followed her titled look and glared at the accessory perched on her crook. He held out his hand, fully expecting his hat to arrive, but instead found his face circled by two pale arms. She was suddenly much closer, delicate fingers running around the brim as they settled his hat, and he couldn't look away from the smile - not a smirk, but a soft, little smile - on her face.

"There we go, good and proper now."

"Er, thank you, Ms-?"

"Peep. Bo Peep. Do you have a name, Sheriff?"

"Woody. Woody Pride. Pleased to meet you."


	2. Chapter 2

A moment suspended in time. Unknown to them yet, the first of many that they would share; her fingers searching for the grip of her crook and his stuck in his belt hoops. Surprisingly, he felt both primed to fly and plummeting to the ground.

"Well..." He kept looking at her wide-eyed, so she took it upon herself to place a hand on his bicep. "Are you going to offer a lady your arm, or will you make me the talk of the town?"

Woody stammered, but got into motion. Bending his left arm, he reminded himself to breathe as she slipped her hand in and gently, naturally, leaned against his arm. As the bedroom door hadn't been fully shut, all it took were a few tugs for it to gape open just enough for the two toys to slip through. 

As they calmly walked down the hallway littered with emptied boxes, his shoulders relaxed in the friendly silence. Woody's eyes darted to her, taking in the delicate slope of her jaw, the loving work of painted baby blues...

"You're staring again, Sheriff."

He winced, free hand pinching his nose while she chuckled. "I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Peep. It's been a while since I've-"

"Had to use manners?"

"Well. Yes, and no. I mean, I've always used manners, it's just- it's been— argh, it's like I can't speak right even if you pulled my string."

"Don't tempt me, cowboy." She shoved him, not harshly but the shock of her words had him stumbling a step. Straightening, he let out a puff of laughter to accompany her own. "I tease, don't put yourself on a cross just yet."

"At the rate I'm going, why I think I might just make it till morning." That got another chuckle from her, and again he felt himself relax. "I truly apologize for being so rude. It's been a while since I've met a doll made so well as yourself. It's still not excuse for staring."

"That's quite alright, I wasn't taking any offense." A beat of silence. "Thank you, for explaining. To be honest, I was afraid the move had given me new chips."

"If I could be so bold, I don't see any at all, ma'am. Not a speck of dust either." He gives a grin, unknowingly boyish, and she has to shift her gaze forward. "The bed doesn't give the best view, but your lamp seems well cared for too."

"I appreciate it. I've been awfully lucky. You don't look too shabby yourself."

"Oh, I'm not nearly as shiny as you, but I've held my own well enough, thank you."

Another comfortable silence, although as they got closer to the living room, muted voices began catching up to them. Both took in deep breaths, straightening themselves and ready for an onslaught. Just so happens as soon as they cross the threshold, their names and questions assault them.

"Woody, I can't be so close to a lamp!"

"Bo, Bo, please, I think I've got a break—"

"Bo, I don't know where I'll be and—"

"Mr. Pride, I've been stuffed with so much bubble wrap I'm sure I'm warped."

They tried to placate as they made their way to the television stand, barely discernible from the growing canopy of voices. Miraculously, no one blocked their way even as they continued to hound them. Woody made his way up first, and with no hesitation this time around, he held out his hand to help Bo up. It was only once they stood atop the thick television that Woody gave a sharp whistle, effectively quieting the room.

"Hey howdy hey, everyone! My name's Woody, and I'm form the groom's side. This here is—"

"Bo Peep, bride's side of course. And let me say, I'm please to see so many new faces!"

With the slightest nod, Bo took a small step back, effectively passing the baton to Woody. The ragdoll nodded back, clapped his hands and focused back to the crowd of decorations and figurines. It was now the start of an unspoken trial, to see if he'd make the cut for all the objects. Should he fail, Bo would be expected to pick up the pieces. He took a deep breath, determined that it wouldn't come to that. 

"I know we're all a bit shaken up, some of us having been in storage longer than others," a grumble passed through the crowd, to which he raised his hands in a silent plea, "but what matters now is that unpacking has finished! Before addressing concerns, we need to take roll call. My guys, lets go first and make sure to say how long you've been in the family. I'll start: My name is Woody Pride and I've been in the family just about thirty years. Bunny Babies, your turn."

"Hi! We're the Bunny Babies and..."

* * *

A half hour later and roll call was back where it started, all eyes on the only introduction left. She took a step forward, having not moved from her concession spot, and tried as best to project her voice. "I'm Bo Beep, as you all know. I've been with the family for about a hundred years, but my lamp got added just forty years back." She glanced over to Woody, who was failing spectacularly at hiding his shock. And with that she took her step back again, and leaned on her crook with a smile. 

Giving himself a shake, he stood back to attention to the crow. He was doing so well, he couldn't drop the ball just because apparently the most senior item had apparently relinquished leadership. To him! Even thought he'd been caught staring! _Twice!_ Even though he'd fallen on his face in front of her! Almost _twice!_ Oh boy, he couldn't get the sweats now.

"Okay, um, great! Great, yeah, great to meet everyone! We should have time to do some damage assessment, takes about half an hour to drive to 15th in the first place. Wine posse, lets start with you four."

As the wine holders began to talk, he took a few steps back until he was besides Bo. Crossing his arms, he tilted towards her – although hovering over her might be a better way to describe his dramatic stance over her. 

"You're not getting off that easily, ya know."

"I don't know what you mean, Sheriff."

"Why'd you let me take the reins?"

"Do you not want them?"

"Ah, ah, ah! Not the point!"

They were both quiet for a moment, their whispered interaction seemingly unnoticed. Both knew better than that, there might not be any toys around them, but wall decorations were worse gossips that pre-school toys. The wine holders finished up, just mostly boxing aches, and the coffee table figures began their report. Still, Woody waited for Bo to speak. 

Finally, she sighed out, "Can't a girl have some secrets? I've already had to tell you my age, isn't that bad enough?"

He gave a harumph, arms tightening across his chest. "Fine, but I'm gonna keep count on you. That's one, Ms. Peep."

She gave a smile – another actual smile, not a canary that got the creamer smile – and his stuffing felt ready to burst. With that, they turned their full attention back to the damage reports, smoothly going into adjustment complaints. At the hour mark, they called the meeting to a close and everyone began their careful trek back into their places.


	3. Chapter 3

“So…” He glanced over to her, not surprised at seeing how pointedly she kept her gaze forward. “A hundred years, huh? How’d you come into the family?” 

She gave a small hum, clearly buying time. Woody hoped that she was thinking about where to begin, and not whether to trust him or not. Considering himself a pretty trustworthy toy, he didn’t want to think about why she might think otherwise. It’s not like he was asking for the keys to the city! He just wanted to know a little bit more about the toy that was obviously going to be second-in-command. Surely she would give him that much.

“There’s really not that much to tell, Sheriff. I’m not a typical toy, as you can tell. I’m a decoration.”

“Sure, but that just makes you all the more unique.”

“It’s awful sweet for you to think that, but I’ve seen more decorations get tossed to the side at garage sales and moving accidents than a child’s treasured toy.” She gave a little tilt of her head, almost a shrug he would assume from their linked position. “It’s luck that I’ve been able to stay in one family for so long.”

“No rambunctious brothers throwing balls in the house that put your life in danger, then?”

Bo gave a short chuckle, more honest than the tinkling one he’d heard her give the other items in the living room. “Oh no, I’ve gone through some close calls. I was originally given to their great-grandmother as a wedding present, and miraculously I… meant something to her.” Her voice grew softer, almost wistful. “That sentiment got passed on down the family, giving me the luck every porcelain doll wishes they could have when kids get riled up. But that’s all it is, simple luck keeping me here.”

“Well,” he paused, working up courage and swallowing it before it left him, “then I’m glad you’re so lucky, Ms. Peep.” At that she slowly came to a stop, although for all the attention he was putting to their walk she might as well have tackled him to the wall. His mouth opened, rather to sputter out an apology, when her hand slipped out from his arm, and panic begin setting in his mind.

Her hand raised, and it was the gentle fluidity of the movement that muted that panic. It didn’t do anything for his breath, held captive within tightened lips, as he waited for the end result. It came out softly, almost a sigh, when her hand landed on the front of his hat. He couldn’t see it, but with the way his hat tilted back _just so_ , he knew her fingers had curled around the brim. It took too little effort to follow the slope of her arm back up to her face, even less effort to center his attention on her eyes.

If he had the brainpower, he would have excused himself for staring again.

“Woody.” She sounded muffled, and he couldn’t pinpoint if it was his failing or her intention. “How about you drop the ‘miss’ from now on?”

“Wh-why?” He knew he sounded breathless, especially with the gulp of air he unabashedly took in front of her watchful gaze. “It’s proper, after all.”

She hummed, and her eyes moved. A question about what was so interesting caught in the back of his throat, for he could be tactless but even he could feel that this was the edge of something, of a moment. He could feel it in the way his fingers tingled, in the way the rustle of her skirts as she stepped closer was as loud as a shout, but most importantly in how incredibly still she was. He could almost believe the humans were back, but her hand was still on his hat.

So this was _a moment_.

“When would it become proper?”

“Whe-When? Well, I-uh, I suppose—”

“I don’t want you supposing. I want to know.”

The hand still grabbing onto her crook shifted, the fingers flexing ever so slightly. If he hadn’t been absolutely tuned into her and only her, he might have missed it. The only sign so far in their whispered moment that maybe, just maybe, she was nervous too.

“A, uh, a good year, I su—I know. In a good year.” His voice stumbled at the end. His shoulders had raised themselves in a show of confidence, but with his verbal tripping, they slouched right down. Bo’s eyes dropped right along with them, and within seconds she took her hand off his hat. His throat tightened, feeling the opportunity for that long-whispered something slipping away, but still his hands remained uselessly at his sides.

He opened his mouth, ready to let the first thing come out of it, when her hand landed on his shoulder. He closed his mouth, holding his breath. He kept his eyes on her face, tracking her movements with the way her eyes shifted. Her hand went from his shoulder, over the stuffed imitation of a bicep, and cozily slid into his elbow. She curled her fingers around it with a step closer, close enough that her skirts were indented by his legs.

“I’ll hold you to that, Sheriff.”

He never knew he would miss hearing his name until it skipped her lips. If only he hadn’t opened his stupid mouth about propriety. Somehow, he managed a smile through it all, pulling his shoulders back with it. “I would expect no less, Ms. Peep.”

Continuing to surprise himself, he cleared his throat. He didn’t take a step away, although that would have been proper for how clearly he could see the glazing on her bangs. Woody bent his arm, cradling the hand she had yet to remove and adjusted his hat just a smidge further down his forehead. She got the message, crook moving before her feet did and leading the pace back down what was left of the hallway.

They walked in silence, and while it wasn’t tense, it certainly wasn’t as relaxed as their first walk together. Woody couldn’t complain, and the more he thought it over, he couldn’t really stay mad at himself for what he said. Manners and rules are what make the leader, and what type of leader would he be if he just plowed through formalities like that? No, he would get to know Bo Peep, for all the fluttering she made him feel, there was still much to know about her character.

As they slipped past the door, he made sure to push it just a little bit more to let her go first while keeping his smile, ideally, kind. There was an indiscernible look on her face as she nodded her thanks, and he knew he’d be stewing over it for the foreseeable future. Woody took large steps, holding himself back from running back to her side, as soon as he could collect his internal anguished screaming to definitely remain internal. Before he could actually speak up to Bo, the mermaids from the bookshelf started calling out, drawing her attention and swiftly changing the air between them as she rolled her eyes.

“Ms. Peep,” he cleared his throat, ducking his eyes as she turned her attention back to him even as the mermaids continued talking from above, “I hope you’ll still join me on meetings. Please, don’t, uh, don’t think you’re unwelcomed. You are—welcomed, I mean, you are welcomed.”

He moved his gaze to just above her shoulder, not trusting his mouth to not say absurdities. As such, he didn’t catch the soft smile she let escape, only heard her hum of acceptance. And her following whisper, “I’ll hold you to that one as well, then.” He didn’t see how her fingers tightened on her crook, but heard the quick little inhale she took.

“Good night, Sheriff.”

“Good night, Ms. Peep.”


End file.
